Irravin slowly awakens, his gaze drifting slowly upwards to meet Gerallt's. He is aware that Gerallt has asked him a question--he sees the older man's lips move as though from a great distance, barely hearing the sound. Time seems to exist in a vacuum as he turns the words over in his head. The soft light filling the room seems dreamy and thick, as though being refracted by a great river.
Irravin takes his time in formulating an answer. Though it is obvious that Gerallt is eager to hear what happened, Irravin's thoughts and words form at too slow of a pace to respond quickly. Joining the ranks of men who have stepped to the edge of death and yet returned to the Material Plane, has left no small impact on his body and soul.
With deliberate, languid effort, Irravin begins to speak. His voice carries a new note of depth and sincerity that it did not hold before.
"My captain...my teacher...my brother. Thank you for the lessons you have always shown me...and for sparing my life. As the river carves away the stone, so has my being been carved anew."
He breathes deeply and patiently for a few counts before he speaks again, drinking in the simple beauty of the awareness of his intact being. Gerallt waits expectantly but silently for Irravin to continue.
"Sarenrae came to me twice today. Once, in the deepest throes of anguish, I glimpsed her rise over the distant mountains, spreading her wings and extending a hand towards me. She spoke not to me, yet her presence soothed and guided me. It was as if she had spoken directly into my heart, whispering to stay the course and follow the light. Then again, after the plunge from the tower, my consciousness left me, and my awareness of my body sank into the very earth. I beheld a powerful vision...I was one with the land, the water and the sky. She again appeared to me from above, and her light did not burn me! I was able to gaze directly upon her radiant heart, and she blessed me with a single kiss, cleansing me and fully restoring my being. She left me then, but her presence remained, sinking into my Holy Staff."
He looks over to the pair dressed in Sarenrae's robes and smiles.
"I pray she will stay with me for the rest of my days."
Gerallt listens silently to Irravin's recounting of his experience. He bears a satisfied smile at hearing of Sarenrae's blessing upon Irravin.
"Though you have received the blessing of the Dawnflower, I would still offer you my own. I pushed your mind and body to the brink, expecting to find cracks, but instead I was met with the bedrock of your determination. Know that you have my full confidence in all matters. I..."
Gerallt trails off for a moment and looks troubled. "Before anything else, I must ask for your forgiveness. Though indeed you received a blemish from the hellfire, I lied to you when I said it was too late, and the curse would work ill through you. I used untruths to try and push you over the brink. Please my brother, forgive me." Gerallt finishes his earnest entreaty with a deep bow.
Gerallt continues, the pace of his speech picking up momentum. "There is much to be done before you return to Mercia to see out your quest. I deem you Facet no longer. You are now an Aspect of the Divine Visage. I shall make preparations for the ceremony, and you shall receive your true Mask. While you remain here I urge you to complete the Shaem, and meditate upon your vision to seal Sarenrae's blessing away within your soul. You have free access to all parts of the Enclave including the Citadel. Seek what you wish for your wordling, and I hope you find the stranger that Ia foretold of."
"Lastly... There is this." Gerallt gestures to the acolytes of Sarenrae. One steps forth and gives him a leather bound book bearing the Eye on Incarnus. "This book... can teach you the Abyssal tongue. Knowing it would greatly ease the burden of the curse your companion now bears. To hear a friends voice when all you would hear is Demons... Truly it is a great blessing. I shall not command you to learn it, but I offer it to you. If you would not listen to the entreaties of a Demon, then it has no power of you." Gerallt smiles. "And I am now quite confident that is the case."
Irravin takes in all of this new information with great relish. Relief washes over him as Gerallt tells him what he hardly dared to hope--that the hellfire may not be permanent.
"I forgive you. I understand that it was my recklessness that put you in such a position in the first place. I apologize that you had to resort to such methods. I pray that we are able to accomplish all of our ends without the use of any kind of darkness or deception."
"And truly, you honor me. I thank you for the consideration and I pray that I may continue to help our order grow, and with this new rank, I vow to redouble my efforts in our sacred mission."
Irravin's voice takes on a new, harsher timbre as he turns the book over in his hands.
"It pains me to even hold such a tome. But...it would be of great help to my companion to aid him in times of battle and terror. I will dedicate my learning to this language, so that I might both aid him and better know my enemy."
He looks up to the acolytes of Sarenrae.
"Thank you for your service and for the book. I would pay obeisance to Sarenrae at the temple here soon, if I may."
Irravin looks at Gerallt again and smiles. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. I have many tools to aid in my quest, not the least of which has been your guidance and tutelage. I must rest, but I will certainly be seeking your counsel sooner rather than later...I would know how to finally purge this hellfire once and for all. As always, I am your faithful servant. I am available if there is anything you wish to discuss or ask of me."
If Gerallt or the acolytes don't have anything else to say, Irravin will fall back into a deep slumber for some time.
When he awakes, he will collect himself and his belongings and return to his quarters. Eventually, he will make his way to Sarenrae's Temple of Blessed Light to offer an extended prayer and meditation, but for now he wishes to be alone in his chambers.
He sinks into a deep meditation with the Holy Staff as the focus, including Verndar in the process, hoping to tap into the secrets within.
There is divinity inside this staff, my friend. Let's see what we can see.
The acolytes make sure to invite Irravin to the traditional noon ceremony at the top of the Sky Tower, today or another. They part to leave Irravin to his rest.
Gerallt speaks before taking his leave, "Rest, recover, and seek wisdom as we have discussed. I shall call upon you in a few days for the Shaem, and perhaps to explore martial techniques should time allow. Rest well, brother." Gerallt parts with a bow.
Irravin falls into a deep dreamless sleep, and awakens feeling refreshed. He returns to his quarters and prepares himself for meditation. He sits cross legged on the stone floor with the staff held in his up facing palms. He slows his breathing and stills his mind. Verndar aligns to his reflections, and comes forth from his chest to hover between Irravin and the staff, slowly pulsing in rhythm with Irravin's meditation.
Though Irravin slowly unravels the nature of the staff before him, Verndar casts Identify, and the properties are layed bare before Irravin's questing mind. There is a familiar reservoir of power within the staff, that can be wielded to protect or battle against evil. But now there is something more. A burning radiance beneath the surface. Irravin invokes it, and the blazing light bursts forth, bathing the room in a golden glow. But this is not like the light from a torch or a clerics blessing. The warmth upon Irravin's skin is unmistakable. It is true sunlight, pouring forth from the staff.
The Holy Staff of Irravin shines in the simple chambers.
Vladimir rises on the morning of the 25th of May. In the evening he receives a summons to meet with Ia and Arius. He may pursue his own interests until then.
Irravin says a silent prayer to the Dawnflower for gifting him such a wonderful and valuable tool, swearing to use it in service of the Light and her allies. The weight of it feels good in his hands, and he can almost feel the sun's warmth emanating from within.
Irravin decides to use it right away, casting Detect Evil on the mysterious ring that he found during their recent travels. If nothing is detected, he will repeat the same process he did for the staff, meditating with it and Verndar and seeing if any new information arises.
Irravin retrieves ring made of rusted iron chain. He invokes the power within the Holy Staff to search the ring for an evil presence. He finds a faint, but foul aura. The ring itself has no evil within, but it is a tool stained with a history of causing pain.
Irravin and Verndar move as one mind. Verndar shifts over Irravin skin to envelope the ring in his palm. Verndar's glowing sigil shines from the surface of the ring as its nature is revealed to Irravin.
Finding himself with some time before the test, Vladimir dons his armor and seeks out the Druid.
Vladimir walks towards the Druid, silently sizing him up as he approaches. He is cautious of this individual and what he wants; although his tone is not aggressive, it is neutral and lacks overt friendliness.
"Hail. My name is Vladimir, but you may call me Irn. I am a Reckoner within the Divine Visage. I understand you came looking for aid. I would hear who you are and what you seek. How long will you be staying at the Enclave?"
Vladimir looks for Essaera and tells her everything he told Basselt to try and find an individual who may be of assistance. He also asks her about who the druid was and what he wanted.
Vladimir need not seek long to find the trail of the visiting druid. People have taken note of his passing and seem surprised that Vladimir cares to seek him out. Eventually, the trail leads a short distance from the Enclave out to an open field of snow. Here there is no protection from the cold biting at Vladimir's fingers and ears, and he cannot remain here for too long.
As Vladimir approaches he quickly recognizes why others have shunned this man, for he smells of rot and decay. A palpable miasma surrounds him that only grows more intense as Vladimir draws closer. Vladimir stops a short distance away and offers his greeting.
The man turns to face Vladimir. His stature is bent enough that he stands below Vladimir's chest. His face bears several cuts and sores in which Vladimir can clearly recognize signs of infection.
He answers Vladimir, his voice low and, surprisingly, strong, "Hail Irn. I wish to be called Raha. I am a seeker of balance, and was told the Divine Visage sought the same. But their conception of balance is a child pretending to have mastered patience. I shan't stay long. I am asking the wind where I might wander. Why have you sought me out?"
Vladimir recognizes the foul aura surrounding this man. It marks a powerful Blight Druid, a worshiper of disasters, death, and unmaking.
Though his appearance is grisly, Vladimir does not startle or scowl. He has seen plenty of things during his times as a ranger of the forest. What he DOES make note of, however, are the words coming out of Raha's mouth. He responds calmly.
"I see. I too am concerned about the balance of our realm, and it is why I have sought you out Raha. My investigations have led me to believe that certain things are amiss in the balance of our realm. Things that won't get better, nay, that will accelerate off-balance without active intervention. Things that your druidic nature might allow you to see or know about. But I need to hear for myself whether or not you have seen behind the Veil. Tell me Raha, what concerns you about the balance of our realm? And what corrections do you seek to make?"
Raha nods his head to Irn. “Perhaps, as a Samsaran, you might understand. There is a tide between Life and Death. Youth must climb the mountain of time until it withers. The seasons flow from bounty to privation. But... there are times when that tide must be a tidal wave. It is those forces that I serve and that serve me. It is my duty is stoke the furnace of the volcano to eruption and to carry the plague into cities.”
Raha's clothing billows and moves too much for the faint morning wind. Living things crawl beneath his cloth.
He studies Irn with steady eyes. “If it is conflict and turmoil you seek, I have the power to counsel you to find it. But know I care not whether you succeed or fail, and the knowledge I offer may lead to your undoing.”
He patiently awaits Irn’s reply.
Vladimir listens calmly to Raha, and only raises an eyebrow (nearly imperceptibly) when he observes crawling beneath Raha's clothing. When Raha finishes, he cocks his head, displaying confusion.
"I appreciate your understanding of my race. However, you speak of duty, and of forces you serve. I would know more of these forces. Who is it telling you that it is time for the tidal wave to approach? I haven't heard anything to make me walk away, but neither are you telling me enough to stay and listen."
Vladimir recalls his times speaking to various creatures of the Faedark, and the revelations he diplomatically retrieved from them. He envisions Ferris the Satyr recounting how the dark Fae currently control the Fae court all while becoming stronger and more present. Vladimir envisions the shard of darkness hanging over the Faedark.
"There are populations that have been steadily growing; populations that may need unseating and even reduction. Therefore, conflict and turmoil are not only in our future, but I daresay they are unavoidable if my allies and I are to keep the balance of the realm in check. But I am confused because you speak of cities and mankind. You are a druid, and I am a ranger. Let us speak less of mankind and more of the realm we share: the natural one. What do you know of the Faedark? Do you believe the Faedark is in need of culling? What whispers have you heard from the forest?"
Raha returns Irn's confusion regarding the source of his knowledge with disappointment.
"The same that speaks to all druids. The forces that hang the stars in the sky and give you sustenance from the food you eat. Nature herself. Our intimate and uncaring mother. You carry a drop of that power with you as well, do you not?
I do not hail from this land. I do not know your Faedark, nor have I heard its whisper. But you stand before me here and now and if you wish your future might speak to me. Should you choose to receive the counsel I spoke of, bring me a life you've freshly taken. From its entrails I shall see the destruction that you may wreak."
Raha's attention wanders back to his contemplation. He is less eager to converse with Vladimir, though willing. Should Vladimir bring him a corpse, his attention shall be renewed.
Though the land about him is harsh and barren to the untrained eye, Vladimir skills will easily yield him his choice of prey should that be his decision.
Vladimir lets Raha’s request for entrails hang in the air. Wind whips his eagle’s cloak up, but as it billows in the harsh wind, Vladimir does not shiver.
This is more than I bargained for, especially right before my test. Perhaps I could follow up with him another time, once the ominous shadow of this test is passed. Consulting wiith Irravin or a member of the countenance would be the best choice before receiving anything from such a sickly and sinister looking individual.
Vladimir responds calmly:
”Thank you for entertaining my questions Raha. I am currently in a turbulent state, awaiting a test of my soul and spirit. I came seeking information, not counsel and training, because this is not my time for that. However, I could easily provide you corpses of magical beasts, should I desire to follow up with you. I assume you can be reached via animal messenger?”
After speaking with Raha, Vladimir searches for Essaera to get her thoughts on individuals of interest who might have valuable information. Should he not have time, he will return to his quarters and await his test
Irravin sits in his chambers, turning over the abyssal tome in his hands. He grimaces at the thought of learning a cursed language--and a share of the grimace is reserved for having to even read a book at all. The monk, humble in both thought and action, can't remember the last time he even read an entire one cover to cover.
Still, diligently, he creaks the cover open and gingerly turns to the first page. At least he has a companion with a boundless thirst for knowledge.
Verndar--let's see what we can see. Keep me on track, my friend.
Irravin will spend the majority of the rest of the day reading, stopping briefly to eat a simple meal and go through some martial exercises.
Raha nods at Vladimir's parting. "I know not where I may wander, so I do not know where any such messenger may find me. But I will look for you so long as I remain here. May you find what you seek"
Vladimir takes his leave. He welcomes the fresh air as the stifling miasma fades behind him with the strange druid, who remains to speak with his wind and snow.
Vladimir hikes through the snow to return to the Enclave. The softly pulsing pillars of the promenade welcome him with their warm embrace as he leaves the frost behind.
Vladimir moves with intent through the now busy promenade, seeking Essaera, but his attention is drawn to an individual amidst the crowd: a statuesque man calmly studying the people passing him with swift, dark eyes. His eyes continue their search until they meet Vladimir's. He looks Vladimir up and down for a moment and then nods as he begins to approach.
The man's features and dress are immaculate and crisp. The symbol of the Seraphic Eye is delicately embroidered on the sleeve of his otherwise plain robes. His eyes have a wildness to them and his hair is frayed, the only breaks in his otherwise seamless appearance.
"Irn. Glad to meet you. I am Arius of the Divine Visage--though not, I suppose, for much longer.
Ia has asked me to speak with you, and delve into the echoes of your past lives. I understand that you have access to a sort of greater self--Dormin--"dormient," perhaps, your sleeper within--with names there are never accidents. We're to awaken that sleeper, it seems, for a talk. Can you tell me what you know, what you have tried before?"
Without pausing Arius keeps his stride looking to Vladimir to fall in with him.
Irravin rests after his test in his quarters. After seeking to understand his staff and the magical ring he recovered he can delay no longer and turns to the abyssal tome.
He proceeds slowly, in part from caution and in part from using a skill seldom exercised. He feels Verndar's presence behind his eyes. Slowly, the presence melds with his experience of scanning the lines of text. Irravin's eyes move faster, and his mind drinks in the language as if a scholar with years of practice.
The language itself seems built around emotion. In order to make a statement or give a command, the speaker conjugate his words based on his own emotion. It seems impossible to make simple factual statements that do not involve the speaker personally. It seems well suited for expletives, impassioned speech, and diplomatic entreaties.
Irravin is on guard as he proceeds and is relieved to find that the language seems mundane.
Irravin rubs his eyes, sighing and leaning back after a few hours of reading the tome. He offers a silent and relieved prayer that reading the text has not seemed to taint him somehow. He feels Verndar's question and reflects diligently before beginning to answer.
Knowledge itself cannot act, and therefore cannot commit evil. But there is certain knowledge that can drive a man to impatience, improper action, violence--even hatred. The first step towards committing right action is right thought--and as soon as mortal man's thoughts are tainted, his actions may not be far behind.
The world of men thrives on secrets. There is much that would be harmful for many men to learn. Would the world be better or worse if every man had access to the same dark secrets as Zadan? Of course, it is up to man at an individual level to decide how to use knowledge, but in the interest of maintaining our fragile and functioning society, there must be a measure of caution in what mortal minds are exposed to.
Irravin sighs, knowing and feeling Verndar well enough to anticipate a further question before it is asked.
True freedom of information is the ideal, of course. Would that we lived in a time when man could freely share with man, talking of his lofty ideas and delighting in shared knowledge under the clear sky! Alas, we are destined to live in an epoch of darkness, violence, and confusion. Our ideals at the Divine Visage are centered in developing knowledge of self, knowledge of the world, and compassion for the world. Sometimes the best way to be compassionate for someone or something is to keep it entirely sequestered. There is no chance of man doing something terrible with forbidden knowledge if he's never exposed to it in the first place. It is a fine line we walk between valuing freedom and safety.
Irravin finds himself rambling and stops abruptly, unsure any longer of whether he's trying to convince Verndar, or himself.
These mental exercises strain me, my friend. I wish to exercise my body now.
Irravin stretches and stalks purposefully out into the training yard to find a sparring partner.
Vladimir moves with Arius and walks through the busy promenade of the Enclave by his side. As he switches between maintaining eye contact with Arius and looking forward where they walk, he makes note of the crowd to assess if members of the Divine Visage automatically move out of Arius' path.
Vladimir pauses before answering Arius' question, but not because he has to think to remember: his memories and experiences of Dormin are always fresh in his mind, especially since he meditates on them often. Although he tries not to show it, he is disarmed by Arius' demeanor. Ia's apprentice is straightforward, but not nearly as aggressive and aloof as his master. Vladimir attempts to play his delay off as pensiveness.
"I'd be glad to tell you; I'm eager to learn more about Dormin. I know I'm not the only Samsaran here, and will skip over the specifics of my race since it seems safe to assume you are familiar with us. Dormin is my ascended being, and I've had several dreams and visions that are starting to teach me a great deal about my cumulative form. In particular, I have felt his presence in temples of the Faedark. I believe he has worked for centuries alongside a bronze dragon named Azithax, to create magical runes in the temples of the Faedark and shape the Ley lines of the land itself. Though I admit, some of that is conjecture from the bits and pieces I've gathered."
He pauses for breath before continuing on.
"I know for a fact he is intimately involved with the Divine Visage: his sanctum in Mercia seems to house and protect demonic artifacts in the same exact manner and mission of the Reckoners. Furthermore, I felt his presence throughout my trial with the Countenance: I could mold the dark stone with an uncanny familiarity, and I felt in my very spirit that I had been there before. I felt it so deeply that it appeared to me as if Dormin himself built the walls. Whether or not that is true remains to be confirmed. Lastly, I've seen visions of a beautiful and powerful mask. Similar to the ornate ones the members of the Countenance don, it appears filled with magical power and is likely the key to ascending to Dormin. I have no idea where that mask is or how to find it, but I know it's out there."
Vladimir pauses and quickly studies Arius' face to get an idea of what the esteemed mage thinks of his summary. He doesn't stare long; Vladimir has found people to be uncomfortable under the maintained gaze of his pupilless eyes.
"That's about it, long tale short. I'm grateful that you appreciate the significance of a name; they can bear lifetimes of significance and symbolism to my people, hence you calling me Irn. Any questions?" he asks plainly as he continues to follow Arius.
Vladimir recounts what he knows of Dormin to Arius as they move southward along the promenade. He notes Dormin's connection with the temples of the Faedark and the ley lines flowing through that land, as well as his partnership with the Dragon Azithax.
As he speaks he assesses Arius, studying how the crowd treats him. Together they move through the crowd quite easily, and Vladimir notes that a path is made for them. However, his sharp eyes catch that those who clear their path spare more glances for Vladimir than Arius.
By the time Vladimir finishes his tale, they have left the Enclave and re-entered the cold and shining fields of snow. Arius guides their path towards a steep mountainside a few hundred yards away.
Arius's constant movement belies his attention. His eyes rove over the middle distance, hungry but unfocused. Yet his ears take in Vladimir's every word to the exclusion of all else.
"'Uncanny familiarity.' Well put, well put. When the world presents us an indescribable truth but conceals its causes; when our natures are obvious and our pasts obscure--you have captured that feeling perfectly."
Arius's mobile gaze fixes Vladimir's white eyes for a moment.
"But! To have even this much interaction with one's own 'ascended being' is unheard of--at least, I have never heard tales of such a thing. I can see why Ia is keen to pry the sleeper up from beds beyond time! It is exciting."
Arius produces a piece of paper. It contains an ornate diagram, adorned with small but well-formed glyphs. At the center is the name "Dormin"; a reticulum of concentric circles and radial lines connects to various nodes. At the edge of the circle can be discerned a node labeled "Irn|Dmo/Dom/Mdo...," with various words scribbled nearby, many followed by question marks, some crossed out. Arius hands this to Vladimir.
"It is not only names that bear such significance, but all words. No, let us say it better: sit with any word long enough, journey to its depths, and you will find a name of significance. Tell me, what do you know of the meaning of 'Irn'? What of Dormin's other lives--do you have names? Places? Deeds?"
Arius instinctively analyzes everything he is told: for lying is commonplace, and truth is rare, and the verbal space between is vast and twisted. Does Arius detect deception or dissimulation?
Arius is highly intrigued. He seems tantalized but wary about the possibility of accessing one's "ascended being."
The power of ley lines can be accessed by traditional spell casters. However, producing items or constructing temples to utilize their power would require words of power in their making.
Vladimir appreciates that Arius shares his curiosity, and does not hold the mage's wariness against him; he finds Arius straightforward and reasonable.
As the two continue towards the mountainside, Vladimir's cape billows in the harsh wind. The scowl on his face, however, has a different source.
"Irn belonged to one of my incarnations. A thieving, selfish one that does not deserve his name. So I have reclaimed it, as timber to the fire of my current life, and to clean off the filth that besmirched a name in my history. I'm afraid that is all I can tell you about Irn; I did not know of his existence until Ia..."
Vladimir pauses, suddenly at a loss for words.
I understood the point Ia was making, and see that I was acting brashly. So why do I still feel conflicted? Indignant even?
"-until it was divined during my trial." Vladimir finishes weakly.
"As for other lives and names...places and deeds..." he continues. "I have seen the name Oistos, and have reason to believe Azithax-the bronze dragon that is-met Oistos and worked with him. I've also had a vivid dream about a young incarnation wielding a whip, named Arcus. I saw him meet Azithax in a beautiful temple, and discuss the possibility of continuing the mission Azithax and Dormin were working on. Whatever that may be."
They plod through the snow in silence for a few moments before Vladimir adds:
"In addition to the sanctum that Dormin kept in Mercia, he also seemed to gain the favor a Movanic Deva angel, named Verathas. He came to us in a time of great need; I'm unsure if we would have been able to fight the demons off and protect the sanctum without his aid."
Vladimir and Arius continue their conversation, and slowly make their way to the sheer mountainside east of the Enclave. A cavern mouth yawns from the icy crags, and Arius guides their steps with purpose towards the cave.
Before they reach their destination, their pace is brought to a halt by a rift rent in the snow field. The rift stretches nearly 20 feet across. The sides curve smoothly inwards following nearly a perfect circle. Where two sides meet within the rift, the snow is a churned mess of sharp prints. The rift itself is easily bypassed, as it doesn't extend beyond 40 feet laterally.
These tracks are undoubtedly left by a Remorhaz, an immense centipede like beast that can cause its chitinous plating to superheat to temperatures capable of melting steel. It uses its heat to effortlessly burrow through ice and snow. It is a dangerous and aggressive predator.
The Remorhaz can swallow creatures whole, burning them within its furnace like stomach. It is completely comfortable in ice and lava.
It possesses rudimentary intelligence capable of understanding language, though they rarely have enough exposure to civilized creatures to learn any. Some giants that do no fear their heat have trained them to serve as living forges.
These tracks are very fresh. The creature is in the vicinity.
Irravin spends a few tireless hours absorbing a tome of the Abyssal tongue with Verndar’s awareness blending with his own, on the evening of the 25th of May. Verndar questions Irravin over what makes certain knowledges forbidden. Irravin does his best to guide Verndar, but eventually finds his mind and body yearning for the peace of physical exertion. He can sense lingering questions with Verndar, but none come forth as Verndar accepts his decision.
Irravin returns to the promenade as the sun hangs low over the horizon, examining the monks remaining at this hour through patient eyes. There is one group that remains in a class setting, with one monk demonstrating and correct stances of the others. Irravin recognizes the motions as ones that he knows very well: Crane Style. On a similar dais, Irravin spies a singluar monk meditating quietly. Irravin discerns Basselt’s identity as the meditating monk by his white crystalline hair.
As Irravin proceeds further, his ears catch the sharp breathing and energetic shouts he knows to accompany sparring or fierce physical exertion. A short distance away from the promenade one of the pits used for the Shaem has been repurposed. Stout poles stand from the bottom of the 10 foot pit. Two monks circle each other, leaping and balancing between the poles. One, a half-orc, moves aggressively on his dwarven opponent. The dwarf continually cedes ground and the half-orc seeks to corner her. They meet in a clash of fists. The orc rains blows on the dwarf, who endures them without losing balance. One such strike is too wild, and the dwarf snatches the arm out of the air and inexorably guides the half-orc’s momentum off of the poles into the pit below. As soon as the monk touches the ground, the bout is over, and they bow to each other.
Irravin may approach any group or individual he likes.
Arius scribbles notes, nodding as Vladimir speaks.
"This helps greatly--the more names and scenes we can bring to bear, the better. It is reassuring to hear with what sorts of beings Dormin kept company. With angels and bronze dragons as comrades, this sleeper must be a truly good spirit, not to mention a strong one."
Arius glances down at the rift in the snow; he does not pause but detours around it.
"Let that be my cue to mention that there are dangerous creatures nearby. Should be nothing the two of us can't handle, from what I hear of your abilities."
Arius waits patiently. If Vladimir spends more than a few minutes, Arius will say,
"I'm no tracker, but unless you see cause for concern, it might be best to move on."
Arius gestures ahead.
"But even if the risk were greater, it would be worth it. The cavern is a nexus of echoes, a geological wonder whose like one rarely finds. The cavern's acoustic properties produce fruitful interactions; because of the nature of my own magic, I have found it an excellent place for focus and discovery. Not unlike life, really: sometimes I shout into the cacophonous void, and sometimes I get exactly what I ask for."
"I must admit to a great deal of professional curiosity. If your ascended being can awaken--if we could learn how such a being is born--just think of it! You said yourself that Dormin has a mission. Consider that! A mission that spans lifetimes. More than any vain search for immortality, that seems to me a truer path to accomplishing great things."
Arius pauses and makes rare eye contact.
"Ah, my apologies. I speak of you as though you were a mere experiment. We're here to answer your questions, not bask in the glory of discovery! Please forgive me. Indeed, I should ask: what are your motives here? What do you seek to learn from your ascended self? And I realize I whisked you off rather curtly--is there anything you wish to know? Our destination or our present task?"
Vladimir takes a look at the tracks and his eyes widen in realization. Before Arius can finish scribbling his notes, Vladimir pulls out OathKeeper. As Arius mentions his warning and dismisses the danger, Vladimir nocks two arrows in preparation for the vicious fiery maw of a remorhaz.
"Arius, the remorhaz are vicious predators. I'm not sure how much my arrows can do against their chitinous hide. These tracks are very fresh, which concerns me greatly. I would like to briefly determine which direction the tracks are going. It should only take a minute."
Vladimir takes a brief moment to examine the tracks further. As they move to bypass the rift and head towards the cavern, he makes note of how the rift ends.
Is there a hole? Has it tunneled underground? Which direction is it moving?
As they move towards the cavern, Vladimir never drops OathKeeper. Although the bowstring is not drawn, the two arrows remain at the ready. He returns eye contact with Arius as the mage reveals his curiosity.
"Hah! Worry not Arius, I take no offense. I appreciate your consideration, but also your curiosity. I share it as well."
Vladimir looks away and checks their surroundings as he continues.
"Indeed, Dormin's mission is a great curiosity. One of personal importance! That is the main thing I hope to learn about. If Dormin knows anything about Azithax, that would also be of importance to me; I wish to know what happened to Azithax and about the battle between him and the malicious evil that seemed to slay him. I'd also hope to learn about the sanctum in Mercia, and how that factors into the mission. I suppose it would also be important to learn about Dormin's involvement in the Divine Visage, and how much of it he has influenced. Of the dozens of inquiries I'd make of Dormin, those are the most pertinent, in order of importance."
Vladimir lists everything off while simultaneously scanning the area as he walks, bow and arrows lowered but at the ready.
"As far as my questions to you go, you've been quite forthcoming. I suppose I'd ask about a few details. What exactly will this process involve? What kind of spell will be cast and what will I experience? Are we going to actually try to commune with or wake up Dormin? I was envisioning simply observing past memories of being Dormin, similar to what Ia did with one of my more shameful incarnations."
Vladimir staggers after stepping onto a particularly icy patch of mountain, but quickly regains his footing.
"Gerallt mentioned that Ivor would also be testing me. Will he be involved in this?"
Vladimir can easily discern this rift was a entrance tunnel - the creature was burrowing downwards rather than emerging. Although the current tunnel faces a northerly direction, its impossible to predict the bored path without entering and following the circular tunnel.
Irravin's interest is piqued by both the lesson on Crane Style and the familiar-looking dark-skinned monk, but he can't help but feel his heartbeat quicken as he watches the sparring atop the tall poles.
He is reminded of the way he feels during a training match with other members of the Divine Visage--it has been far too long since he engaged in a bout that didn't have life or death on the line. The pleasant camaraderie of a good spar has long eluded him, and he finds himself wandering over towards the pit, hoping for some friendly combat.
Irravin waits until the dwarf from the previous bout has made it out of the pit, then approaches her.
"That was quite a feat! I am thoroughly impressed. Are you taking new challengers, or is there a line? I would like to test my strength against a warrior such as yourself."
“Hmm. I appreciate your wariness, much as I hope it is not needed. I shall endeavor to keep a watchful eye, as well. What more do you know about remorhaz … remorhazzes? In addition to pluralization, do you know of any precautions we might take?”
Arius puts his notes away and scans the horizon as he responds.
“With respect to the experiential component, I inhabit equal states of ignorance and awe. I certainly expect it to be interesting. If I were to conjecture, I would say your previous visions might be something to go on. How your separation from Dormin--and Dormin's status as a composite mind--affect it, I can't say. Certainly your being separate from him will have some effect … indeed, it is on that moment of inosculation, of coming-into-union, that I plan to focus our energies. My hope is that, by conjuring the moment at which your past life ascended or transited to Dormin, we shall be able to gain insight into the nature of that process.”
Arius withdraws the moonstone from a satchel and considers it.
“For that reason, Ia gave me this moonstone. It should allow us to follow the tangled threads of your soul as we seek the knot. It may be too much to hope that we might speak directly with Dormin. However, if all goes well, Dormin's superficial being should be able to inhabit you for a time. We won't draw from the deep well of memory, nor shall we dig to the inscrutable bedrock of self, but the hills and flats of sensation should come as it were under your feet to be walked on. Your desires will be Dormin's desires and you will feel as he feels.”
Arius returns the moonstone to its pouch with reverence. His avowal of wakefulness already half forgot, he begins to scribble again.
“At that point, my role will shift from mystagogue--wielder of mysterious power! Parter of the veil!--to that of scribe and inquisitor. Ah, well. Such is the lot of one destined for a university bench … ah. In any case. While Ivor won't be present, I shall record all that transpires and pass the report to him.”
The winded dwarf looks Irravin over in a manner he is quite familiar with. Can I take him? Irravin has made such glances himself many times before sparring. She nods to him.
"There was a line, but it so happens that rending a demon in twain with your bare hands entitles you to pass it. Once, at least."
She glances at the three other monks who remain near the poled pit. They nod their approval.
"So is it true? Did you defeat a demon with naught but what I see before me?
She reaches out to inspect Irravin's hands, though she moves slowly and pauses, waiting for consent before proceeding.
Irravin looks the dwarf up and down. She is obviously a skilled fighter and carries herself with confident ease. Though he tries to stifle any desire for unnecessary fame or praise, Irravin can't help but let a slight note of pride enter his voice as he responds.
"Naught but the training the Divine Visage has instilled in me, the help of my companions, and the blessing of Sarenrae's light. I would never have been able to do it alone, but indeed, I did battle with a demon and emerged victorious. "
He holds his palms out to her, face up.
"I'm afraid you won't find anything special about these hands. But please, feel free to look--or to see what they can do in a friendly match!"
The dwarven monk takes Irravin’s right hand into her own. Though she stands much shorter than Irravin, her hands are larger than his. She carries a solid weight packed within her small posture that is likely greater than Irravin’s. She gives Irravin’s hand a thoughtful inspection.
“A teacher told me that a weapon used to kill an immortal being is marked in the process. And that one could recognize such an implement.” She releases Irravin’s hand with a shrug. “I can see no such thing. Perhaps I may discover it in combat.”
“If you have the power to heal, I request that you restore my strength. Hakail’s rain of blows struck true more than a few times.”
If Irravin heals her she offers her honest gratitude.
The dwarf speaks as she circles the pit to oppose Irravin’s position, “Once we begin, to touch the ground is to be defeated. You may touch the poles in any manner."
Her stout form moves with fluid grace as she steps out onto the poles and assumes a defensive posture.
Irravin may take his first turn.
Vladimir nods in consent.
"This divination seems unpredictable, but it seems it will be carried out by prepared and wary hands. I am ready to perform it. As for remorhazes..." he pauses, letting the plural form sink in,"...they are vicious and fiery creatures that live in cold climate. As such, I imagine elemental attacks would do little against them. I would prioritize any crushing or armor-piercing spells you have available. And whatever you do, have your reflexes and wits about you. Considering that they burrow under the ground, I suspect they ambush their prey from beneath; be wary of any vibrations beneath our feet and be ready to dive out of harm's way.
Irravin nods as he turns his hands over and places them softly on the dwarf's shoulders as soothing magic pulses from his palms.
"These hands have banished much evil...but they also have done much healing. Perhaps in time, we will inhabit a world where neither is needed so frequently."
As the dwarf moves to other side of the pit to face him, Irravin springs onto the poles with lithe grace. The frosty breeze billows his cloak under the faraway gaze of the sun as he inhales deeply, feeling the battle-thrill begin to churn in his veins. He bows to his opponent, hands clasped in brief prayer.
"I begin with an offering of gratitude, safety, and strength. May we always remember why we train and who we fight for."
SPOILER STATUS
HP:55 Saves:8,5,11
Perception:12, SM:9
He looks up to see the dwarf in a ready posture. With a deep breath, he launches himself towards her, springing off the first pole.
Irravin's foot slips as he steps on the first pole, and for a sickening moment, his feet go over his head as he tumbles toward the bottom of the pit.
Before he realizes it, his arms snakes out and grabs tightly to one of the poles, using his own momentum to propel himself back on top. Dazed and shaken, he looks up to collect himself before the dwarf's inevitable attack.
"No ice? Shame. Fortunately, having seen Ia's proficiency with the magic of storms, I expanded my palette a bit. In fact, I received the word of lightning in this very cave. Allow me to prepare my weapon in case of remorhazes (and I thank you for that linguistic tidbit)."
Arius utters a brief incantation. As he speaks, the syllables seem to drip out in the form of sparks or galvanic arcs, which he collects in his hands. As he finishes speaking, he takes the gathered mass, a lambent pool of plasma, and draws it into the form of a pole. Three prongs he molds at the tip with a twist of fingers; within seconds, a trident of living lightning rests in his fist.
"Please make yourself comfortable, Vladimir. No particular posture is required, so long as there is posture. I shall begin to cast the names by which your soul has been known into the depths of the cave, spoken so as to harness their natural mystical energies. Their entourage as they go will be my own magical power; they will not return, but, if we are fortunate, they will send back an echo which is more than echo. Keep watch as long as you are able; as I may enter at points a state of rapture, I urge you to give the alarm should it become necessary."
Arius turns toward the cave's throat, its impenetrable windings of stone and sound. As he reads from his notes, he speaks names. They are not always recognizable as themselves. At times, the syllables fall into simple incoherence; at times, it is as though a vowel has been replaced by a play of light or the leaping of stones from the cave's floor. Some of the names so brim with resonance as to seem lost in the rippling weave of call and echo, and they swell like prominences in the darkness, as though the cave had yawned and bared its tender palate. What of the words becomes visible clings to Arius like moss. He sweats despite the cold, glistening through the thick wordstuff which wraps ever denser around him: an aura of densest mist suffused with brilliant moonlight. The cavern walls, too, glisten, coated as though in slime, and are not still. Whether the chatter in the air is but one voice echoing or a chorus come from Arius's lone lips: this cannot be known.
Even is Arius, odd is Vladimir.
Vladimir stands alert as Arius conjures his arcane magics. So consumed is Arius with guiding the echoes of power around him that he is completely oblivious to the tremors in the snow beneath.
Vladimir senses the disturbance and has no doubts as to the source. His eyes scour the snow around him for a hint of where the burrowing originates. There! Beneath Arius' feet the snow has begun to churn and melt. Heartbeats remain before the Remorhaz breaches the snow under Arius who remains focused and unaware.
Vladimir may take one round of actions. Arius will not heed any call made by Vladimir.
The cavern mouth is 30 feet across and slowly narrows down to a 10 foot tunnel. Arius stands where the tunnel reaches 20 feet across, speaking deeper into the depths. Vladimir is 10 feet closer to the entrance of the cave. The cavern is approximately as tall as it is wide.
As the snow below Arius' feet begins to churn, Vladimir's world quiets and time seems to slow down.
tu-tump. One heart beat.
Vladimir scans Arius.
More or less catatonic. If I tackle him we'll both sprawl on the ground. As the beast surfaces. Not good.
tu-tump. Two heart beats.
Vladimir's eyes quickly dart around the cave.
The cave narrows ahead. Into a tunnel with a large fiery beast in tow. Not good.
tu-tump. Three heart beats.
Suddenly Vladimir is assailed with an image of Arius falling into the beast's fiery maw, his eyes wide in shock.
NO!
Vladimir shouts as he bursts into motion.
"Not on my watch! I'm sorry Arius!"
He closes the distance between him and Arius while reaching his arms out to shove Arius and bull rush the unaware apprentice (and hopefully himself) out of harm's way.
I'll only push us away from the collapsing ground. I shouldn't push Arius any deeper into the tunnel than I have to!
A moment of frozen silence before Vladimir leaps to action. Three heartbeats to decide and two heartbeats to act enables him to shove Arius and spare him from harm. But one heartbeat too many to spare Vladimir. The snow beneath him melts and steams. The skittering remorhaz erupts from the cavern floor with a gout of heat, its red hot chitinous plates slamming against Vladimir.
.
Vladimir takes half damage from the eruption and is not knocked prone.
physical damage.
fire damage.
Vladimir takes 9 physical damage and 7 fire damage.
Vladimir catches the momentum of the eruption and is thrown to more solid ground. He glides in the air with his Eagle's Cape to guide himself to an easy landing.
The remorhaz extends its body to the ceiling of the cavern, looming over Arius and Vladimir, a hundred insectoid limbs the size of human arms claw in the air. Its interlocking armored plates distort and writhe as its internal furnace heats and warps the air around it.
Vladimir then Arius may take their turns, followed by the remorhaz.
The remorhaz has 20% concealment from its heat/the steam it creates. Please include a 20% chance to miss on the attacks.
Irravin and the unnamed dwarf face each other in silence across the pit. Irravin dashes across the poles but his feet are unfamiliar and his footing is lost. He begins to fall but is able to grab the the poles with his arms and carry his momentum upwards back on the poles. As soon as he begins to regain his balance, he finds the dwarf upon him.
Although still reeling from his fall, Irravin still parries and thwarts the dwarf's attacks that seek to ensnare him.
Irravin's turn.
The shell of echo and reverie cracks open. Arius lies on the cavern floor, sweating already from the remorhaz's aura of haze and heat. His trident still sits ready in his hand. The other he passes, palm flat, over his own body, and feels the familiar comfort of an arcane barrier. Swollen with the courage that comes of armor, he considers the scene.
"One spell before I'm in the fray ... disable the beast or empower one of us?"
Arius emits a chittering shout, then a long, plangent hum. The word of power draws Vladimir up to bob, not flounder, in time's current.
Move action: get up.
Swift action: arcane barrier for temp. HP.
Standard action: boosted accelerate on Vladimir, who now gets one extra attack in a full attack OR an extra movement action (decided on a per-turn basis).
tu-tump
Vladimir's arms push Arius forward, deeper into the cave and out of immediate danger. The caped ranger grins in victory.
And then the ground begins to erupt upwards with his body still over it. Vladimir scowls.
NO. I NEED MORE TIME.
tu-tump
Unbelievably, the world slows to an even more sluggish crawl as Vladimir's reflexes shift into overdrive. Puffs of steam seem to slow in their emergence out of the growing opening in the floor, and the churning storm of melted snow appears to move like honey in this slowed second.
He has less than a single heart-beat.
But his honed reflexes will make that enough.
Hasty calculations and trajectories are plotted out in Vladimir's mind as he feels the beginning push of the steaming-hot force from the Remorhaz's molten breach. With not a millisecond to spare, he contorts his body and angles himself to minimize his explosion exposure.
tu-tump
tu-tump-tu-tump-tu-tump-tu-tump-tu-tump-time resumes its normal forward march as Vladimir soars through the air. Ignoring the new burns he sticks a stable landing, his cape flowing behind him. He lands 15 feet away from the fiery beast.
Before his eagle's cape is able to drop, the arm he extended behind him for balance during his landing has already nocked two magical beast bane arrows. Using his trained manyshot skill, he fires the two arrows in a single draw.
His quickshot ability is formidable, and before the arrows strike or miss their chitinous target, he has already nocked another magical beast bane arrow. He only has two left in that pocket of his quiver. He fires without hesitation.
Vladimir shouts as his bane arrows shoot forward into the cloud of roaring steam.
"If we can't frighten it off with a strong combined resistance we must retreat further into the cave! Is it a dead end inside?”